Huntley village hall casts jinx on one (at least) local reporter

Trouble seems to follow me wherever I go -- especially if I go to Huntley village hall.

In an earlier column, I told you about when I walked through the double doors into village hall and the metal box above the door came crashing down, just missing me.

On another recent trip to village hall, I got a tour of the basement. It wasn't planned.

It was near the beginning of this stretch of wet weather we're experiencing. The clouds opened up soon after I stepped into village hall for a meeting.

Halfway through the meeting, a village employee came into the room to tell us the tornado siren had been sounded. We all had to go into the basement.

It was pretty nondescript, and reminded me of tornado drills from elementary school. It was at least 15 minutes before we were allowed to return upstairs.

When I told Huntley Mayor Chuck Sass about the experience, he informed me there were a couple reporters' bodies down in the basement.

If I stick around Huntley much longer, they might have some company.

Welcome back, students: If you go grocery shopping today, make sure you get enough Pop-Tarts.

Monday is the first day of school for Huntley District 158, and your kids are going to need the cloying toaster pastries to make it to class on time.

I can sympathize with teens who have to wake up when it's still dark because of obscenely early start times.

My high school in Michigan started at 7:15 a.m. I'm not a morning person, so it's no surprise my biology teacher told me that my yawning was a distraction in his first-period class.

Some of my classmates used to go to the vending machine before first period to buy a caffeine-loaded soft drink called Code Red. I don't know if they make that anymore, but it was pretty potent.

One of my classmates one year was habitually tardy or absent to first period. He told me he had some kind of health problem that made it hard for him to wake up for school. We just thought he was lazy and laughed about his "health problem."

Another classmate was so lazy his senior year that he would routinely come into school at the start (or the middle) of third period.

Our European history teacher didn't seem to care much, especially when the kid brought him a Slushie from 7-Eleven.

I used to get rides to school in the morning from a friend who drove a beat-up minivan. He was usually late, so I racked up a lot of tardies that year.

We often were forced to do some lame icebreakers on the first day of class. I remember once having to keep a straight face while telling my class that the classmate I interviewed didn't like when people used the word "ghetto."

For those of you starting school, enjoy the irritating first-day rituals while they last. You'll remember them fondly some day.